


In Dreams

by wendymr



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Lewis Fright Fest 2013
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-02
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-31 05:22:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1027718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendymr/pseuds/wendymr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robbie has a nocturnal visitor... or does he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sasha1600](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha1600/gifts).



> Written for the Lewis Fright Fest 2013 on the Lewis Challenge community. Thanks, as always, to Uniquepov and Lindenharp for BR and hand-holding, and to Uniquepov especially for a suggestion I loved.
> 
> Also: many happy returns, Sasha1600!

**Sunday 27 October**

“This is new.” James gestures to the lamp that’s sitting on the coffee-table.

“Yeah. Present from our Lyn.” Not his thing, really, but she’d gone to the trouble of bringing it back for him from Ireland, where she and Tim have just been on holiday. He’d mentioned in passing a few weeks ago that he needed a new bedside lamp; that the shade had broken on the old one. This... it’s not that he dislikes it, as such, but the lump of powder-blue rock that forms the base is a bit... well, bland and feminine for his tastes. The oval glass shade is okay, he supposes.

“What is it?” James picks the lamp up and studies the base. “It looks a bit like marble, but it’s the wrong colour.”

“Lyn says it’s some sort of semi-precious stone.” She’d also said that, according to the shopkeeper, it’s supposed to aid restful sleep and – she’d laughed as she told him – make sleepers dream of their true loves. 

As if he needs some ridiculous New Age sodding crystal to do that – but it’s nonsense anyway. 

James leaves shortly afterwards; it’s a work-night, after all. With a shrug, Robbie picks up the lamp and takes it into the bedroom, plugging it in and setting it on his bedside cabinet in place of the old lamp. At least he can tell Lyn he’s using it, and in a few months he can ‘accidentally’ knock it off the cabinet, and if the shade breaks, well, that’ll just be a shame, won’t it?

___________________________

“Robbie? Robbie, can you hear me?”

“Eh? _Val_?” And there she is, standing in front of him, just as he remembers her, bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp... which he _knows_ he switched off.

“Took you long enough, love.” Her smile’s so familiar. Oh, _Val_! 

“I’m dreaming, aren’t I?” He reaches out towards her, but she’s standing just beyond his grasp, casually leaning against the bedroom wall, watching him with that same amused fondness he remembers so well, yet had been starting to forget. It’s been so long, yet seeing her like this brings back all those memories as if they were yesterday.

“Does it matter? I’m here, Robbie.”

He tries to sit up so he can get out of bed and go to her, but his legs won’t move. And it sounds ridiculous, but the bed’s not letting him out.

“C’mere, bonny lass.” He can’t take his eyes off her, and he’s aching to touch her. It’s been so long, far too long.

“I can’t, love. I’m only here to give you a message.”

“What message?” Christ, Val! “I don’t care about that, I just want to touch you–”

“It’s been long enough, love. It’s time to stop living in the past.”

“What?”

“That’s why I’m here, Robbie, love. To say goodbye properly so you can move on.”

“ _No_. I don’t want–”

Her smile’s sad, and she shakes her head and, as he tries to reach for her again, abruptly she’s not there – and the light’s gone off.

___________________________

It was a dream, that’s all. Except in the eight years since she died he’s never had such a vivid dream of her. Sitting up in the darkened bedroom, his heart still pounding, he still imagines he can smell that fragrance she always wore. Freesias, that’s what it smelled of.

Just a dream. A bit disturbing, though. He’ll have to tell James not to get curry from the Bombay Kitchen again.

___________________________

**Monday 28 October**

 

“You don’t believe I was here, do you?”

“Val!” His heart’s pounding. In the dim light cast by Lyn’s lamp, she’s here again, at the foot of the bed. Tonight, she’s dressed differently. Last night, she was wearing that dark purple blouse she loved, and now she’s got on a dark green jumper. He can remember her buying that – it was on sale in Marks and Spencer after Christmas the year before she... went to London that day. Her hair’s the same, though, almost down to her shoulders, turned in at the ends. “I know I’m dreaming, but it warms my heart to see you, love.”

“What’s a dream and what’s real? I’m here, that’s all that matters.”

Just like yesterday, he can’t move. He can’t touch her. “Val, please. Come here.”

She smiles, and he can feel her fingers brushing his face, though she’s still standing at the end of the bed. “I told you, love, I can’t.”

Disappointment floods him. “What’s the point of you being here, then?”

“Oh, Robbie.” The fond affection in her voice tears at his heart. “I didn’t come to make you sad.”

“I miss you.”

“I know. You’re allowed to miss me, love, but you’ve got to stop living in the past. I want you to be happy.”

“I am happy,” Robbie protests, but Val shakes her head.

“You’re not letting yourself be open to what could be. I know you, Robbie Lewis, so don’t lie to me.” She tilts her head to one side, an old familiar gesture.

“If you mean Laura Hobson...”

“I mean anyone who helps to fill that gap in your life, Robbie. A friend, a lover; someone who’s important to you. You’re too busy missing me that you won’t let them in.” Val frowns at him. “You have so many people who love you, and you keep pushing them away. That’s not my Robbie.”

“I have friends!” he protests – but guilt stabs at him. He does push people away. He’s been blowing hot and cold with Laura, and only a few months ago she told him she’d prefer to stay friends, and she’s now seeing someone else. And there’s James – what was it he’d said a couple of years ago about Robbie jumping down his throat for even mentioning Val? And the lad’s barely brought her up in conversation since. In fact, now that he thinks about it, James rarely brings up anything personal with him. And, yeah, some of that might be because the lad’s not exactly an open book himself, but Robbie knows better than to think that’s all it is.

Val’s smile grows more knowing. “Exactly.”

“If the only reason you’re here is to nag me...” It’s unfair, and the last thing he wants to say to her, but the words just escape before he can stop them.

She doesn’t move, yet he feels the unmistakeable sensation of fingers brushing his hair. “I’ve always known you better than you know yourself, love.” He gives her a resigned smile; that’s true and he knows it. 

Of course it is, though. He’s dreaming. His subconscious is projecting onto his dream-Val and making her say things he already knows himself. That’s all this is. After all, Val’s been gone these eight years and more. She knows nothing about the time in between. She never even met James.

She tuts, clicking her tongue in mild impatience. “And I know you think none of this is happening. Well, watch.”

Dream-Val opens the wardrobe, reaches inside and pulls out one of his ties – the burgundy one with tiny gold diamonds. She slips one end through the handle on the wardrobe door, then ties a knot in it. Turning back to him, she sticks out her tongue at him – and then fades away. 

Abruptly, the lamp blinks off and he’s in darkness.

___________________________

**Tuesday 29 October**

In the morning, Robbie comes back to the bedroom after his shower, and by practised rote goes straight to the wardrobe. His hand freezes as he reaches for the door.

There’s a burgundy and gold tie fastened to the handle in a perfect half-Windsor knot – the way Val always did his ties when she complained that his knots were too bulky for his shirt.

In the eight years since she’s been gone, he’s never managed to master the way she did his ties. So even if, in the throes of sleep, he’d got up and put the tie there himself, he couldn’t have done that, could he?

But Val can’t really have been here. That’s impossible. Isn’t it?

___________________________

“Sir? Are you all right? You seem a little distracted today.”

“Eh?” He glances across the office at James. “Did you say something?”

James’s lips tilt faintly. “I said you seem distracted. Everything all right?”

“I’m fine.” It’s only after he sees James’s taken-aback expression that he realises he was more curt than he intended. “Sorry. Bit of a disturbed night – didn’t sleep very well.”

“Sorry to hear that, sir.” James’s tone is frustratingly impersonal; he must have been even more abrupt than he thought. “I hope you sleep better tonight.”

“Me too.” He pushes back his chair and stands. “A decent cup of coffee might help. Can I bring you one?” James says nothing, but the faint alteration in his expression speaks volumes. “Oh, come on. Should’ve guessed you’d need to feed your habit.”

At that, James’s lips curve into an actual smile. “Thought you’d never ask, sir.” He stands in one smooth movement and moves to hold the door for Robbie. “After you.”

___________________________

“Robbie! Earth calling Robbie!”

Groggily, he opens his eyes. The light’s on, and Val’s there again, this time sitting on the end of the bed. She’s wearing an outfit he doesn’t remember at all: a red and black swirly pattern in some sort of shimmery material he just knows James would be able to identify at a glance.

“Hello again, pet.” He sits up and just looks his fill of her, knowing by now that it’s pointless trying to go to her, or asking her to come closer. As wonderful as it is to see her night after night, it’s frustrating and painful as hell at the same time. He doesn’t just want to look at her or talk to her – if he could even call this talking, since all she’s doing is telling him to move on.

And that’s assuming she’s really here at all, and he knows she’s not. She’s a figment of his imagination, nothing more, and by now he’s almost wishing that his imagination would give it a rest.

“Oh, Robbie.” She sighs, shaking her head, disappointment in her eyes, and it’s then that he notices the burgundy and gold tie she’s twisting between her hands. “You still don’t believe I’m here, do you?”

He hesitates before saying, “I know I can see you and hear you, but you won’t let me touch you. How can I believe you’re really here?”

“You could trust me,” she suggests, a hint of sadness in her voice. “Oh, but it’s not me you don’t trust, is it, love? It’s yourself.”

He tugs at his ear. “Pet, after you died, I dreamed I was with you every night for almost a year. Broke my heart all over again every morning when I woke up alone.”

Something brushes his forehead. It feels like her lips used to, but of course it’s not. “I’m so sorry, love. I never meant to leave you alone, and I never wanted you to stay on your own all this time.”

He shrugs. “What am I supposed to do, bonny lass? I’ve had the best – how can anyone else compare?”

“That’s where you’re going wrong, you daft thing. You shouldn’t be trying to compare. Whoever’s out there for you – a best friend or a lover, I don’t know – they’ll be their own person, and just as right for you as I was. Just open your eyes, love, and see.”

He’s barely aware of shaking his head, but her face falls and he knows he’s disappointed her again. He flops back down on the pillows. “I can’t keep doing this, pet,” he says, barely aloud. “How many nights am I going to keep dreaming of you this time?”

Val stands, but moves away rather than coming closer. “What’s it going to take for you to believe me?” Her eyes widen. “What if someone else can see me, too?”

“Eh?” He frowns. “How are you going to manage that?”

“I’m not – you are.” Hands on her hips, she faces him. “Ask someone you trust to stay with you tomorrow night, and then we’ll see.” Again, his expression must be giving him away, because she glares at him. “I never thought you were a coward, Robbie Lewis. Tomorrow night, okay?”

Before he has a chance to say another word, she’s gone again.

___________________________

**Wednesday 30 October**

If James thought he was distracted yesterday, then Christ only knows what the bloke’s thinking of him today. It’s a good thing they’re not top of the rotation and they’re each focusing on different things; he has reports for Innocent as well as paperwork back from CPS, and James is working on team performance reviews – a task he takes very seriously and devotes his full attention to. 

Robbie, on the other hand, is not devoting the attention that he should to his reports. It’s a good thing they’re not due until tomorrow; that’ll give him a chance to go over them again in the morning – always assuming he’ll get a decent night’s sleep tonight, of course.

It’s not like the last time he dreamed of Val, where the worst thing about it was waking up alone. This time, the worst thing is the distance between them. His own subconscious is producing these dreams, so why is the Val in his head not only refusing to touch him, but pushing him away from her?

_Unless she’s not just in your head..._

But that’s nonsense. He’s dreaming, that’s all. She’s not really there at all. Everything she’s said to him is the product of his own imagination.

_So how did the tie get there?_

There’s got to be an explanation for that. Very simple, too, he has no doubt. There’s plenty of scientific evidence for things that seem at first glance to be inexplicable by natural means. He probably sleepwalked and did it himself.

And dream-Val’s challenge, that he should have someone else at the flat tonight to see whether he’s the only one seeing her? Why would his subconscious come up with that? Because he knows he won’t do it, most likely. There’s no way he’s going to tell someone else – Laura, say – that his dead wife’s been speaking to him in his dreams and leaving signs of her presence around the flat. Laura’d be on the phone to the men in white coats.

Yet why would his subconscious suggest it at all? What if he called dream-Val’s bluff and did as she challenged him? But then who could he ask?

“Tell me it’s none of my business, sir, but you seem even more distracted today. Is there something I can help with?”

James’s voice jolts Robbie out of his preoccupation. “Eh? No, it’s nothing,” he says quickly. Embarrassment at being caught out almost makes him bark out an order for his sergeant to concentrate on his own work, but he stops himself in time. James doesn’t deserve that. He’s only being... well, a concerned friend, isn’t he?

And James is one of the most trustworthy – and discreet – people he knows. Even if the bloke thinks his boss is off his trolley, he wouldn’t tell anyone else. The most Robbie could expect would be some good-natured mockery. Maybe...

He takes a deep breath. “Actually, there is something. You free tonight?”

___________________________

“Much as I appreciate the hospitality, sir, I was wondering whether you’re going to tell me what this is about.” James takes a long drink from his bottle of Bridge – they’re on their third of the evening – and raises an eyebrow in Robbie’s direction.

“Nothin’ in particular.” Robbie takes a drink himself so that James can’t see his face clearly. He’s _not_ going to tell James the truth. Thinking about it on the way home, it made perfect sense. If he tells James, then – apart from the potential for ridicule – isn’t he just creating the conditions in which the lad might dream about him and Val? The power of suggestion, isn’t it? Psychologists he’s worked with over the years have talked about how suggestion can influence people’s actions in so many ways.

No; much better if James knows nothing. 

“Just felt like company, that’s all.” He stretches, leaning back on the sofa. “And since I thought we’d probably have a few drinks, it made sense for you to sleep here. All right?”

“Of course.” James angles his body so that he’s facing Robbie, and their knees are pressing together. It’s not uncomfortable, though. Oddly, it’s reassuring – he’d say it feels like James is grounding him in reality, except that sounds stupid, doesn’t it?

“Halloween tomorrow,” Robbie comments after a bit. James scowls. Robbie snorts. “S’pose you see it as some sort of pagan atrocity – what, an affront to Christianity?”

James smirks. “Hardly. No, it’s the supposedly adult people making idiots of themselves in costume that offends me.”

Robbie laughs. “You don’t have to wait for Halloween for that. Go down the Masonic Lodge second Tuesday of every month. Or there’s your lot in church of a Sunday.” He jabs James with his elbow. “You’d have dressed up like that, wouldn’t you? Cassock, surplice, the lot? S’pose at least you wouldn’t have worn a silly hat.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” James murmurs.

“Don’t suppose you’ve got any photos? Or maybe I should look up some of your classmates, eh?” He’s teasing, of course, though he watches James carefully; the bloke can be sensitive about his time in the seminary.

But James gives him a smug look. “They’re all sworn to silence.” He takes another drink. “I suppose you still have your... what would you call them? Novelty glasses?” The smirk’s back. “It was a surprisingly good look on you, sir. Don’t suppose you’ve considered wearing them to work?”

“Oi!” Robbie growls, but his impertinent sergeant just rests his head against the sofa-back, lips curved upwards in a far too self-satisfied smile. Bagmen these days – they just don’t know how to show proper respect.

___________________________

“Oh, Robbie. Did you really think this would work?”

He sits up abruptly, blinking against the light. Val’s sitting on top of the dressing-table. Bugger it; he’s dreaming again. “What?” he asks wearily.

“Getting James to sleep on the couch.” All right, that settles it. She really is just a figment of his imagination. Val had been dead for more than three years by the time he met James. 

“Oh, go away,” he mutters, then winces inside. Yes, she’s just his subconscious, and yes, she’s telling him things he doesn’t want to hear – and is that the power of suggestion? After all, he’s had lots of people tell him it’s time he moved on – but, dream or not, he’s looking at Val. Talking to her.

“You hate it when I’m right, don’t you, love?” She winks at him. “I mean it, though. He’s not going to see me out there. He needs to be in here.”

“Eh?” Robbie stares at her. Why on earth would he ask James, of all people, to sleep in his bedroom? And what reason would he give?

But there’s the answer to what he was asking himself earlier, isn’t it? He can’t prove her wrong, because whatever he does to try and do what she asks, it’s not right. No doubt if he put an air-bed on the floor for James, dream-Val would say he needs to be in bed with Robbie. As if.

Val slides down from the chest of drawers and comes to stand beside the bed; so close, but he still can’t touch her. “I’ve told you what you need to do if you absolutely have to have proof that you’re not making me up. And I know you’re not a coward, Robbie – so what’s stopping you? Unless you want to believe I’m just a figment of your imagination.”

An invisible finger flicks his nose, and she’s gone again.

___________________________

**Thursday 31 October**

“Come back to mine again tonight? Dinner’s on me.”

James exhales a cloud of smoke, then turns to Robbie with a half-smile. “Do you need back-up to brave the Halloween hordes?”

“Nah.” Robbie waves a hand impatiently. “Nowt like that. But–” He huffs out a breath. “There is something. Didn’t tell you last night, because... well, never mind why.”

James stubs out his cigarette as they reach the car. “Thought as much. You don’t have to tell me, you know. Whatever you need, sir...” His expression is serious, concerned. “You know you only have to ask.”

“I know, and thanks.” Robbie rubs at his eyebrow. “It’s just... it’s not easy to explain, all right? An’ definitely not here.”

“Understood.” James slides into the car and starts the engine. “I’ll be there. Should I bring an overnight bag again?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. Now, where to...?”

___________________________

“Hold on a minute, sir. Are you seriously telling me that–”

“Oi.” Robbie feels himself flushing. “I asked you just to listen, didn’t I?” He sighs and scrubs his face. “Difficult enough talking about this as it is, without...”

“Sorry.” James’s hand squeezes his forearm. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you – at least, I believe you believe what you’re telling me.”

“I know, I know. You’re thinking it’s all in me head, wishful thinking or some such. You think I haven’t considered that meself?” He sighs. “Except that I can’t see meself making Val tell me to move on and forget her.”

James turns so that he’s facing Robbie, and his expression’s completely non-judgemental, fully the concerned friend. “I’m listening. No more interruptions, I promise.”

Robbie nods, and bit by bit, with unspoken encouragement, he tells the entire story. James’s eyes widen at the tie, but he doesn’t comment. Even when Robbie gets to Val insisting that his ‘witness’ needs to be with him in the bedroom – and, he suspects, in the bed – the only reaction from James is a slight slackening of his jaw.

As he ends his recounting of events, Robbie adds, “So, go on. You think I’ve finally gone round the bend, right?”

“Actually,” James says calmly, “you’re one of the least likely people I know to believe in the supernatural. If you believe what you’ve just told me – and I have no doubt that you do – then I believe you. But I know there has to be a rational explanation.”

Robbie pulls a face. “Bloody hope there is. I’ve been starting to think I’m ready for the funny farm. But what happens if I see her again tonight an’ you see and hear nothing?”

“Then you know it’s nothing more than a dream.” James’s tone is reassuring, which would be nice except it’s the way the bloke talks to traumatised victims of crime, and Robbie’s not one of those, thank you very much. “Though if I see you wandering around the room tying items of clothing to furniture, sir, we might have to have words in the morning.”

Although Robbie’d like to growl at the cheeky sod, he’s only too aware that James has a point. “Yeah, yeah. Go on, you take the bathroom first.”

___________________________

James settles into the bed next to Robbie, and although he’s obviously trying to be unobtrusive it’s weird having someone in bed with him again – and even weirder that it’s his bloody bagman. Although that’s not really a fair way to describe him, is it? By now, James is a mate as well. He wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t.

He reaches over to the bedside lamp. “Putting the light off now, okay?”

“Yes.” There’s a hint of a smirk on James’s face. “Sweet dreams, sir.”

Git. Robbie snaps off the light and flops back onto the pillow. James doesn’t believe that Val’s been here, that’s obvious. But he can hardly blame the bloke, can he? If their positions were reversed, he wouldn’t believe James either. 

Well, he’ll find out tonight one way or the other. _You hope_. If Val comes to him again, and James doesn’t see her, he’ll know it’s all in his mind – and, well, then he’d better think about booking an appointment with his doctor. For all the good that will do – the doctor’ll probably want him to see the bloody grief counsellor again. 

And if Val doesn’t appear at all... that’ll just mean that he was imagining it all, too, right? And what? His imagination doesn’t work when he’s not alone? Or that having someone here drives away whatever it is that’s making him dream up Val in the first place? 

Christ, none of that makes sense.

And the third option... that James does see her too? 

No. Whatever his dream-Val said, that’s never going to happen. Because she’s not really here, and having James here is going to prove it once and for all.

___________________________

“Hello, Robbie, love. And James, it’s lovely to meet you at last.”

Robbie darts a glance to his side. James is there, shifting up to sit in the bed. He’s looking startled – well, that makes two of them. James catches Robbie’s eye, giving an apologetic grimace.

Well, that makes sense, at least. If he’s going to include James in his dream, then his dream-James would apologise for not believing him, wouldn’t he?

“Mrs Lewis, I assume? It’s a pleasure to meet you,” James says smoothly, breaking the silence.

Val laughs, coming to sit on the edge of the bed, next to James. “Oh, Val, please. The police might be ridiculous about formality, but that doesn’t apply to me.”

“Val, then.” James inclines his head.

“Now do you believe me, Robbie?” She doesn’t give him a chance to answer. “I like this one. _Much_ nicer than your first sergeant.” Val never had liked Ali, that was true. “But then, she had the cheek to flirt blatantly with you in front of me.”

“Very bad form.” Robbie just knows James is suppressing a smirk.

“See, he knows what’s what!” Val pats James’s arm and gives Robbie a broad grin. “Not that I’d mind him flirting with you under my nose. He could flirt with me, too, while he’s at it.”

“I’m not sure I’d dare,” James says, and he’s blushing. Robbie suspects he is too; why on earth would he imagine Val encouraging James to flirt with him?

“Oh, dear. Robbie, I really hope you’re nicer to him than Morse was to you.”

“Inspector Lewis is an excellent governor. I couldn’t ask for better,” James says, a little stiffly. “I–” 

Val tuts. “Inspector? You call him that down the pub too?”

“Leave him alone, Val.” Robbie leans forward. “I did as you asked. What happens now?”

Val stands and comes around to Robbie’s side of the bed. “That all depends on whether you believe I’m really here now.”

His voice is shaky as he says, “I don’t believe in ghosts, pet. You know that.”

“I do. But you always did believe in me.”

He stretches a hand out to her, and this time she takes it. There’s a lump in his throat at the feel of the familiar hand in his. “I still do, bonny lass. I love you. Always will.”

“And I’ll always love you. But it really is time to let go. You can’t spend the rest of your life grieving for me.”

“Can if I want,” he mutters.

Her expression turns sad. “Do you know how much it hurts me to know you’re still unhappy after all this time? I don’t want you to be alone.”

Robbie swallows. “I’m not alone, love.”

“Yes, you are.”

“He’s not.” James leans forward, deliberately drawing Val’s attention to him. “He’s got people who care about him very much. If that’s what you’re worried about, he’ll always have that. Not being in a relationship doesn’t mean someone is alone.”

Robbie turns slowly to look at James. Of course he’d known the bloke seemed to like him, but he’d never realised it went this deep. “Thanks, man,” he manages, and James gives him a faintly-embarrassed smile.

“You see, Robbie?” Val’s smile’s grown as wide as he’s ever seen it. “I told you. You have so many people who love you. It’s time to let them give you what you need.”

Bloody hell, Val and her women’s magazines! Just as well he’s only dreaming; James’d never let him hear the end of this otherwise. Dream or not, that’s enough of this. “And if I do?”

“Who knows?” Val winks at him. “It really doesn’t matter, as long as you’re happy.”

“I am, though,” he says suddenly, because it’s true. It’s taken a long time for him to get there, but he is. Val’s right, and so’s James: he has friends who care about him, and whom he cares about as well. And he’s still got Lyn and her bloke, and a grandchild on the way.

“Good.” Val shifts again, and she’s in his arms, hugging him, kissing him, and he knows it’s goodbye this time. He won’t see her again.

“Goodbye, bonny lass,” he murmurs against her lips, and she holds him tighter.

“Be happy, love,” she says softly, and kisses him one final time.

She pulls away and leans across to James, brushing a kiss against his cheek, and then whispers something in his ear. James flushes, though Robbie sees him nod.

He reaches for Val, hoping for one final hug before she moves away – but his arms grasp at thin air and, as he tries to stop himself from overbalancing, he knocks the lamp off the bedside cabinet.

There’s the sound of glass shattering, and then the room’s plunged into darkness.

___________________________

**Friday 1 November**

Robbie blinks into wakefulness as the dawn light steals through the curtains. James is next to him, sitting up in the bed and staring blankly in front of him.

“You all right?” 

James turns to him. “I had the oddest dream...”

“Yeah.”

“Your wife... and you, and me...”

“Yeah. She said goodbye. And you said I’m not alone.”

“You’re not,” James says immediately. “But... yes. How can we have had the same dream?”

Robbie shakes his head. “No idea.” Unless, of course, Val really was here all along... “You?”

“I said there had to be a rational explanation. But I can’t think of one.” 

“Me neither.” Robbie glances at the bedside clock; almost time to get up. But there’s something... Frowning, he looks down at the shattered glass and filament on the floor – and the undamaged chunk of blue stone. 

He nudges James. “Oi, look at this!”

James leans over his shoulder and looks down, then emits a low whistle. “Okay, that is seriously spooky.”

Robbie snorts. “And you’re the one who doesn’t see the point of Halloween.”

“No, I said I didn’t see the point of costumes. Now, if either of you had been dressed as witches or skeletons or vampires...”

“Nah, out of the three of us you’d be the vampire. Tall and thin and bloody white as a sheet – I’d be worried if not for the fact that I’ve seen the way you eat.”

___________________________

Over breakfast, he asks, “What did she say to you at the end?” _And why don’t I know, if it was my dream?_

“Ah.” James shakes his head. “My lips are sealed.”

He’d push, but he has a fair idea. Telling James to look after him, or something like that. “Fair enough.”

James is silent for a long moment, then he looks directly at Robbie, brow creased in concern. “Are you all right?”

He considers for a moment. “Yeah, I am. I got to say goodbye.” And how many grieving relatives has he met in his job that never got to do that? It’s eight years later, and he’ll never be certain whether this was really just a dream, but he said it. He had that one final embrace.

And he’s not alone.

___________________________

“I did some research.”

James is with him again this evening; they ended up bringing some paperwork back to the flat to work on it in relative comfort, and now they’re relaxing over a bottle or two of Bridge.

“About?”

“It occurred to me that – don’t laugh – the dreams, or whatever they were, started after Lyn gave you that lamp. So I looked at what was left of it this morning to see what it’s made of. The stone in the base is celestite. I’m not sure if you’re aware, sir, but some people believe that certain types of stone or mineral have... well, healing properties. Celestite’s associated with enhancing dreams and achieving inner peace. Also...” He quirks an eyebrow. “Urging one towards a greater openness to new experiences.”

“Yeah?” Robbie snorts. “You’re not sayin’ you really believe all that?”

“Well... no.” James smirks. “I just thought it was interesting.”

“Interesting, eh?” Robbie jabs him with his elbow.

“Well, would you say you’re more open to new experiences, sir?”

“Dunno, but I’d definitely be open to you gettin’ me another bottle.” He holds up the empty one in his hand.

James shakes his head, and gets up to do as asked. “Though I have to ask,” he continues as he’s walking to the kitchen, “if the lamp hadn’t smashed, would you have kept it?”

“Dunno. Might’ve given it to you for Christmas.” 

“How kind.” James’s tone could dry a desert. He sits next to Robbie again, and their shoulders brush. It’s nice. It’s companionship, with a friend who cares about him – just as James said. 

He tilts his bottle towards James. “Here’s to moving on, eh?”

James knocks his own bottle against his. “Absolutely.” In unison, they drink.


End file.
